


absinthe (heart grows fonder)

by technorat



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post TLJ, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 00:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17652602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/technorat
Summary: “What?” Ren growls, at the clearly frightened lieutenant.“General Hux has collapsed.”





	absinthe (heart grows fonder)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Bad Things Happen bingo! The prompt was "reluctant caretaker" which i hope you'll find Ren to be.
> 
> title shamelessly taken from I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME's Absinthe which i listened to over and over again while writing this.
> 
> you can find me [here](http://gaygalaxyguy.tumblr.com) on tumblr and you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/gay_galaxy_guy) on twitter.
> 
> warnings: descriptions of injuries / some time spent in a medical setting

142 hours after Crait.

He meditates or sleeps or stares listlessly at dull grey walls, trying to reopen the connection that had been slammed shut before him. It all seems to evade him, like smoke parting beneath his fingers. Elusive and silent— _but she should be there, she should be at_ his _side, ruling the Galaxy, the two descendants of Darth Vader._

Nothing is as it should be. The Force twists and screams and _see you later, kid_ and _prince of darkness_ and _careful, Ren_ —

Ren’s comm lights up. He growls, snatching it up off his ruined table, scorched from a row with his saber. He swipes right, accepting the call. “What?” he growls, at the clearly frightened lieutenant.

“S-supreme Leader, sir,” the lieutenant says, growing more pale. He holds his hat in front of him, as if it were a shield, wrinkling the fabric it’s made of. Even at a distance, Ren can _feel_ the fear, worry, helplessness rolling off of him.

“General Hux has collapsed.”

*

The Medbay is silent when Ren arrives, cloak trailing behind him, licking at his heels. It’s as if every officer there is holding their breath, to see what will happen.

“Long live the Supreme Leader,” a medical officer greets, breaking the unnatural silence. She is short and stern, with her hair pulled back from her face into a tight bun.

She escorts him into a private room.

_Medical officer Vivani Harris. Loyal to Hux. Fear. A deep fear of Ren. Worry. Anxiety. All held back behind a proper mask, like all cadets were taught to do at the Academy._

_But._

_Everyone knows that Ren has been throwing Hux around—_

_That Ren would likely not care if Hux were replaced by some other officer._

Ren does not allow himself to wince.

Looking far too small on the oversized bed is Hux. Pale, as pale as the stark white sheets beneath him, eyes closed and breath shallow but even. Needles prick his inner elbow, fluids of various color hung off of IVs.

If he could not feel the cold spark of Hux within the Force, Ren would have assumed the General to be dead.

“What happened?” he asks.

“He fainted,” Harris says. She picks up a datapad and flicks through the notes. “Exhaustion. Malnutrition. Dehydration. Broken ribs. Old bruising, especially around his throat. And then he cracked open his head.”

Each word is like a blaster bolt, shot directly at Ren. She blames him for this. She can’t even hide it, not even with all her training.

“Why summon me?”

It’s weak. He’s like a child again, asking why mother Leia called for him Ben when he behaved poorly.

Harris sets down the datapad. “Frankly, I am not sure myself, sir.” She wets her lips. “General Hux has… you down as his emergency contact.”

Ren blinks. No family? No parent or sibling. No friends listed? No one, nothing, just Kylo _karking_ Ren.

Harris seems to take his silence as permission to continue the lecture. “Staff is stretched thin. We are still dealing with the aftermath of Starkiller, of the loss of the Supremacy, and of Crait. We… do not have the necessary resources to ensure that General Hux is kept safe.”

_From an assassination attempt._

He scoffs.

“You really have no one else,” he says dryly.

This should be an offense. He should snap Harris’s neck and promote some other officer to whatever her position is.

Harris presses her lips together, into a fine line. “Excuse me for saying this, sir, but we _need_ General Hux.” _Determination, fear, and, buried underneath everything else, hope._ “There are… others that would see General Hux’s downfall as advantageous to their own positions. “

She stares at him, dark eyes reflecting the pale moon of Ren’s face. “Hux _is_ the Order. He exemplifies everything we stand for. He—”

 _He_ is not safe even from his own men. Ren looks again at the man, pale and weak and _as thin as a slip of paper._

“Bring him to my rooms,” Ren says, if only for the chance to gloat. If only for the medical officer to stop talking. If only because this entire situation is _pitiful._

If only because Hux had no one else in the Galaxy.

*

Droids deposit Hux in Ren’s bed. The General still wears the thin, blue medical gown. Even while unconscious, there’s a frown on his face. Ren throws a blanket over Hux—not because he cares, but because he wants Hux to know that _Ren_ was the one to see him at his weakest and did not have him killed. Did not _let him_ be killed.

There is nothing else to do, but to check on Hux every couple of hours, and to ensure that he takes his pills when he does wake up.

The stinging, cloying scent of disinfectant lingers where the droids had sanitized Ren’s room.

Hux’s eyes flutter, pale lashes framing his cheeks, but he does not wake.

Satisfied, Ren sits at the foot of his bed like the dog Hux is supposed to be and meditates.

The room is silent, but for the sounds of them breathing.

*

He’s pulled from his meditation by a low whine.

Ren opens his eyes and takes in the form of Hux, curled into himself in the middle of Ren’s sheets. His orange hair is mused, limp against his forehead, having broken free from his pomade. Hux’s green eyes are bleary, even as he rubs at one.

“Ren…?” he calls, more than confused.

“That’s not my title,” Ren says, unwilling to let it go.

Hux blinks again, before sitting up. “Supreme Leader,” he says sharply, pushing away the sheets. He’s up, bare feet against the cold floor, marching about Ren’s sleeping quarters. “What happened?” he asks, only adding a “sir” after.

“You fainted,” Ren says, enjoying the image of Hux running about his room, looking for his clothes. “MedBay summoned me to care for you. It’s time for you to take your medicine.”

Hux blanches at that. “Surely not, sir. How long has it been? I must return to the bridge—”

“You’re on medical leave,” Ren cuts.

Hux’s face falls entirely before turning a bright shade of pink. He sputters before collecting himself. “Did you _put_ me on medical leave, sir?”

Ren can’t help the grin that finds its way onto his face.

Who knew being Hux’s caretaker would be so enjoyable?

“No. No need to.” Ren waits half a bit, enjoying Hux’s anticipation. “You were so sleep deprived that you fell and _cracked your head open_ , according to a medical officer. She ordered it before I had to step in.”

Hux frowns, his nose scrunching up. “That couldn’t have been how it was phrased.”

“Oh, but it was close enough.” Ren goes to get Hux a glass of water to go along the cocktail of pills the medical officer had prescribed. “Here,” he says, putting everything down on the bedside table and pretending not to see Hux flinch.

“What are they?” Hux eyes the pills distrustfully, counting them slowly.

Ren rolls his shoulders. “I didn’t ask too many questions. I think I was… surprised to see that I am your emergency contact.”

Hux grimaces. “I haven’t had the chance to change that yet, sir.” He swallows down each pill with a sip of water. “If you would allow me the use of a datapad, I will have that fixed.”

As gently as he dares, he pushes Hux back down into the bed with the Force, ignoring the man’s started squawk.

“There is no need for that,” Ren says, his teeth clacking together in what turns out to be a feral sort of smile.

Hux, dwarfed in Ren’s bed, blinks rapidly, a crease forming between his brows. “Sir—?”

Ren leans forwards, looming over the bed, taking in the sight of his General, the man his crew looked up to and admired. Thin and bruised and exhaustion written into every line of his face.

It wouldn’t do—wouldn’t do at all for the future of the Order, _his_ Order.

“Sleep well, General.”


End file.
